


Hannibal: Mend

by ChangeTheCircumstances



Series: Hannibal: The Continuation [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Abigail gets help (but probably not the kind she really needs), Cannibalism, Gen, M/M, Murder Family, Post Silence of the Lambs, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Typical Hannibal stuff, Violence, dark!Will, they ran off to Argentina yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeTheCircumstances/pseuds/ChangeTheCircumstances
Summary: Finally together and away from the FBI, Will finds that life isn't perfect but then, it wouldn't be so entertaining if it was.





	1. Crack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you again for those reading this series and interested in this fic. For those that haven't read Hannibal: Silence, I highly recommend it as it explains how Will, Hannibal, and Abigail got to where they are now and some parts could be a little confusing if you haven't. Either way though, I hope you enjoy some happy times with Murder Family and thanks for reading :)

Will had everything he had ever wanted. He had Hannibal, Abigail, a dog, and was far away from the FBI. But that didn’t mean his life was perfect in Argentina.

Largely, it was Abigail that made his new life a challenge. She had been locked up for five years in a place made for picking people apart. She had managed to fend off Jack during Hannibal’s trial, had adamantly been opposed to testifying against him, but that didn’t mean some of the ideas hadn’t stuck.

Some days there was no difference and she was just Abigail; smiling, laughing, sassy Abigail. And then there were the moments of confusion and, even worse, fear that would pass over her face when her eyes looked at Will or Hannibal. Her dreams were even more telling. Will couldn’t help but relate to the feeling of waking up caked in sweat, eyes wild and body shaking, unable to tell what was real or not.

Yet at the same time, there was so little that Will could actually do to help. It was more Hannibal’s area in working her through her nightmares, her thoughts. Will trusted Hannibal to do what was best but that didn’t mean Will enjoyed feeling helpless.

When Hannibal was doing a session with Abigail, Will usually went around helping people fix their boats. In Mar Azul and Villa Gessell, the closest town and city, they were the Barcus family and Will had established himself as a fairly competent boat mechanic. After all, it did no good locking themselves away. Mystery always got people far more curious and they didn’t need anyone poking into their business. The same went for money and the fact that Will worked even though he technically didn’t need to. By working, it at least suggested they weren’t insanely rich and helped to draw less attention.

Because of that, by the sixth month they had established themselves with usual vendors and neighbors. One could even say the Barcus family had good acquaintances and friends now.

Will enjoyed playing the retired professor’s husband. It was entertaining seeing how far he could string people along, what he could make people believe. It was a game of manipulation, one which they all enjoyed immensely, slipping into different skins and suits as the moment required.

When Hannibal wasn’t having a session but was actually teaching Abigail though, Will often enjoyed sitting in. Not only had being locked away for so long damaged Abigail psychologically but it had kept her from college and learning. Hannibal had taken it upon himself to be the teacher in that instance as well, educating her in languages and about the world and anything else she wanted to know. Originally, that had made Will feel even more powerless.

However, upon seeing Abigail attempting to learn and the frustration that sometimes came with the lessons Hannibal required rather than offered, Will had chosen to join in. His own fumbling attempts, particularly with languages, changed the lessons to a much more humorous and less stressful setting for Abigail and it was the first time when Will felt that he was actually helping.

Then came the day Abigail asked him if he’d teach her how to fish and Will smiled as wide as he could.

On that first fishing trip, it was just the two of them. They drove inland to a popular river and had found a rather secluded spot. The first few minutes had simply been Will showing Abigail how to cast a line but after they got comfortable, she asked him a rather shocking question.

“I’m a burden, aren’t I?”

Will didn’t outright deny it. He of course didn’t think so but he instead softly asked, “Why would you think that?”

“You both spend so much time simply…dealing with me,” Abigail muttered. “I should be able to be independent. I’m twenty-nine now for god’s sake but I can’t and I take up so much of your time.”

“That is true,” Will replied, “but a burden implies a nuisance and you are not a nuisance. You are not a _burden_ Abigail. I will gladly spend the rest of my life helping you.”

“You’ve done that from the very beginning.”

Will glanced over. “Is that alright?”

Abigail nodded, her eyes finally moving to his. “I’m glad you saved me. You and Hannibal. Even with…the lost time, with what happened, I’m glad we finally made it here.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner,” murmured Will. He had never said that. The effect was freeing as he finally showed his guilt over past actions. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go to Florence half a decade ago.”

However, he was shocked to see no forgiveness in Abigail’s eyes as she shook her head. It seemed that there was nothing to forgive and Will needn’t apologize. “You couldn’t give yourself over, not wholly. Even if you had gone away it wouldn’t have…it wouldn’t have been this,” murmured Abigail. “I wish none of us had to be separated but I think…I think it was necessary for you to finally grow comfortable with your skin. You needed to understand how the other half lived so you could see what you truly wanted.”

“You sound like Hannibal.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” smiled Abigail.

“Definitely.”

After that, fishing became their thing. Hannibal occasionally came and Will sometimes brought Precious as well but overall, it was Will’s time with Abigail. It felt good to connect with Abigail, especially with something so simplistic yet important to him.

Usually they went straight home with their catch or if there was enough, they went to a nearby market and sold it to the vendor. However, one trip was different from their usual routine as they walked down the path back to the car.

The path was rocky and somewhat uneven. Near a part of it was a small cliff face of about twenty-two feet and it was there that they saw the bloody wreck.

Abigail rushed to the creature first but Will quickly stopped her, seeing a snake tangled in the creature’s legs.

“Let me,” he said as he slowly moved forward. However, upon closer inspection the snake was clearly dead with a broken spine. The other creature, which Will now saw was a domestic cat, was still breathing though each breath seemed even shakier than the last. A leg was broken and there were wounds on its back, likely from the snake, and Will imagined even more that couldn’t be seen under fur and skin thanks to what looked like a tumble over the cliff.

Will had always connected with dogs more as they had incredible human qualities and one never had to worry about broken promises with a dog. However, he didn’t enjoy seeing the poor cat in pain and was about to put it out of its misery when Abigail got between them and picked it up.

“Abigail, the chance that it’ll—”

“ _Please_.”

If they were to save the small cat, he didn’t really have time to decide how fruitless it might be. He simply nodded and picked up the dead snake as well. He didn’t know if it was venomous but if it was, a veterinarian would need to see the species if they had any hope of saving the cat.

They booked it back to the car, each movement jarring the small animal. Will thought for sure that each breath would be its last but each time it continued to keep going.

The drive took a little over thirty minutes but the cat was still alive when Will and Abigail rushed into the store/hospital. A doctor that Will had met with once when he thought Precious was sick quickly took over and Will and Abigail were forced to wait. Will called up Hannibal to explain what had happened and why they would be home late.

“And you said it was Abigail’s decision to try and save it?”

“Yes,” said Will.

“Hmm, if it survives I think you should bring it home.”

“Seriously? You complain about Precious enough as it is.” They both knew that he rarely meant it but Will still couldn’t believe he was actually suggesting they get another animal.

“Having something to nurse and heal could be therapeutic for Abigail. It is for a lot of people.”

“Well in that case I guess we’ll be even longer. I’ll call when we finally head back.”

And with that, Will waited some more. It wasn’t even that late but he did doze off at least once as they waited for anything. By the time the doctor came back, the sun had already dipped towards the horizon.

“We have the little fella sedated at the moment,” the doctor said. “Thankfully, the snake wasn’t a venomous one and there isn’t any major internal damage. It’ll take a while but he’ll heal though we can’t keep him here. If he’s not yours, we may not be able to treat him for the time that he needs. We simply don’t have the room.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him,” Will replied before Abigail could even ask.

“The medication will cost a good deal and we have to make sure he’s had his shots before we can—”

“Not an issue,” Will interrupted.

And that was how Will found himself driving home with another pet, though for once it wasn’t a dog.

Glancing over to the sleeping form in Abigail’s lap, Will noted that he could actually distinguish its coloring and form now that it had been cleaned and patched up. The little cat wasn’t fully grown though not a kitten either. It was a long haired dark calico with only the barest hint of white on its muzzle. No longer broken and covered in blood, Will found he was pleased that the cat would make it. He was beautiful and it would have been a shame to end his life so quickly.

Abigail ended up naming him Orten after one of her favorite historical story Hannibal had told her, Ortensia Farnese, one of history’s most heinous women.

It was only after Orten had healed a good bit and had gotten the cast off that they introduced him to Precious, all curious to see if they actually would be able to live with a cat and dog under the same roof.

They all sat in the living room, Hannibal in a chair while Will sat on the floor. He held Precious just in case she decided to go for the cat. Abigail brought Orten in, holding him in her arms, and sat on the floor as well, though a little away from Will just in case.

Precious growled softly as Will continued to rub soothing circles into her fur. “Come on Precious, don’t be like that.”

Orten surprisingly didn’t make a noise at all, they had already seen he wasn’t a talkative cat, which ultimately seemed to help calm Precious a bit. Will then slowly let go of Precious and watched her waddle over. She growled once more but didn’t bare her teeth as she and Orten curiously looked at one another. Orten didn’t move once, not until Precious stuck her noise into his fur and he quickly slapped her across the face for it.

Precious let out a high pitched bark of surprise and scurried back over to Will as Abigail laughed loudly.

“Well at least it doesn’t look like they’ll tear each other apart,” chuckled Abigail.

Will nodded in agreement and suddenly they had a new family member.

Orten proved even more useful for Abigail too as he required that they went into town a bit more often than normal for checkups and medication as he healed. It gave Abigail a good reason to go by herself and to assert her own independence, something which Hannibal had been working on with her.

Of course, that didn’t mean Orten made everything just peach perfect and Abigail was suddenly completely healed. That was made all the clearer when Abigail came back from a run to the vet a little later than usual. She walked in holding Orten tight in her arms, his fur and her hands covered in blood.

“Abigail are you—!”

“I’m alright,” she murmured, looking down as Will rushed forward. “It’s not my blood.”

“Hannibal come here!” Will called out before quickly turning back to Abigail. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was Mrs. Torres from that one coffee shop,” Abigail murmured as her eyes clearly concentrated more on combing Orten’s fur than anything else. “I ran into her outside the clinic.” Her eyes finally came up and met Will’s. “She said horrible things about you and Hannibal again. Unforgivably cruel things.”

“Where did this occur?” murmured Hannibal after suddenly appearing by Will’s side.

“In an alleyway.”

“Can you show me?”

She nodded.

“And the body?” asked Will.

“She’s in the car.”

Will looked to Hannibal and an unspoken decision passed between them. Will gently took Orten from her hands and set him down on the floor where he began to lick himself clean. Hannibal took Abigail to help her clean her hands while Will went out to the car and quickly retrieved the body. Judging by the amount of blood in the backseat, they would need a new car.

Taking the older woman into their home, Will went to the kitchen and placed her on the large kitchen table. It wasn’t uncommon to see just a body there but usually it was planned when there was one.

“I’m taking Abigail back to where it happened,” Hannibal suddenly said as he walked into the room. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Be careful,” murmured Will, moving over to give a quick kiss.

He then turned back to the corpse, looking over her as he decided what to do first.

Taking out a trash bag, Will stripped her and threw away the clothes, planning to burn them later. He then examined how Abigail had killed her. Looking at the wound in the woman’s neck, Will could tell Abigail had punctured her jugular with a key. It had been an act of pure emotion, sudden and violent. It also helped to explain why there had been so much blood in the car. The woman had bled out onto the backseat.

Thankfully it hadn’t been to long and rigor mortis hadn’t set in. Will tied up the woman’s feet to where the pots and pans hung and pulled the rest of her body off the table so that she now swung freely. Will pulled out a bucket and then slit her throat properly, letting the remaining blood slowly drain into it. He then took her back down and carefully began to open her up. As he did so, his mind moved back to the many days when Hannibal guided him through such actions. He wished he could be there now, watching him dismantle the body for the first time by himself. He wondered what Hannibal would approve of, what he would slightly correct.

Though Hannibal wasn’t there, Will could feel him against his back, whispering into his ear, his hands on top of his, gently adjusting his grip and position.

“She’s not a heavy drinker. That’s a blessing,” Hannibal whispered, his breath tickling his ear.

“I’ll save the liver then,” Will murmured to the figment.

Taking most of the organs and carefully storing them was hard work and took a great deal of time yet even once he had finished, Hannibal and Abigail hadn’t returned. It was early the next morning, only a few more hours before sunrise, but Will couldn’t sleep.

He found Orten and cleaned off the remaining blood he’d been unable to get to and then curled up on the couch with him and Precious to wait.

By the time Hannibal and Abigail did come back, it was close to noon.

Will jumped to his feet, Precious still in his arms. “Are we leaving?”

“Not for today,” Hannibal said. “And I’ve already disposed of the car. I’m afraid we’ll have to make do with just the motorcycle for a time before we get a new one though.”

“Then we’re safe?”

Hannibal nodded before giving Abigail a piercing gaze. “And I believe you’ve learned your lesson young lady.”

“I’m sorry. She just…”

“Hannibal and I can handle ourselves Abigail,” Will gently reminded her as he placed Precious onto the floor. He walked over and hugged her tight. “But I do thank you for trying to defend our honor.”

“We’ll need to work on your self control Abigail,” Hannibal added, “but well done on getting out of there and with your work this morning. Now, go get some rest. You need it.”

Abigail nodded. “I’m sorry. Goodnight,” she murmured, picking up Orten who had come to her feet.

“Night,” Will said, watching her head off to her room before turning to Hannibal. His eyes narrowed slightly but Hannibal’s face didn’t change.

“I meant it Will. We don’t have to leave yet.”

He had been unsure if Hannibal had simply lied for Abigail’s benefit but Will was happy to see he hadn’t.

“How did you do with the body?”

“We’ll have plenty for a large meal in the next few days. Maybe even make some sausage for Precious,” Will replied with a grin. “We could invite the Santios over too. It should help to dispel some of their curiosity with us.”

“A wonderful idea,” Hannibal murmured with a devilish smile before leaning in and kissing Will.

In one swift move, Hannibal picked him up and Will wrapped his legs around him. It still amazed Will how easy it was for Hannibal as he walked back to the bedroom with Will in his arms. Thankfully the curtains were still drawn and the daylight couldn’t break into the darkness as Will felt his back hit the mattress.

“How was it?” murmured Hannibal as his lips softly moved along Will’s neck.

Knowing what he was asking after, Will replied, “Stupid.” The word hitched in his throat as he felt Hannibal’s teeth press into his skin. “There was no thought. Just action.” Will stopped again as he felt Hannibal tug at his shirt. He quickly pulled it off and threw it to the side.

He pulled Hannibal up into a kiss again, pushing his tongue between his lips and widening his mouth, pressing their bodies together as close as possible. Then Hannibal pulled away and moved his lips to Will’s scar along his stomach. Hannibal always seemed to love giving that scar extra attention. Will’s fingers tangled in Hannibal’s hair as his body shuttered. “The kill was purely emotional, all rage,” Will got out. “It was stupid. But it was also her love for us laid bare.”

“You think I am too hard on her,” Hannibal said, pressing his lips against the scar in between the words.

“Only sometimes.”

“Do not worry Will,” replied Hannibal as he moved up to kiss Will’s lips again. “I made sure to express my appreciation of her actions. I only wish to take that raw power and guide it.”

“Like you did with me.”

“Exactly.”

Will tightened his legs around Hannibal and successfully rolled them over. He sat back, gazing down at the man’s disheveled hair and mussed appearance in the dim lighting. To think he had such power to destroy the immaculate Hannibal Lecter. The thought was intoxicating.

He tugged at Hannibal’s shirt, much like how Hannibal had done only moments ago. Hannibal willingly complied and Will went to work guiding his fingers over the scars that Hannibal carried, many which he had witnessed, a few that he still didn’t know the stories to. Most important were the ones along Hannibal’s wrists though.

He took one and gently kissed the long, pale, thin scar that was so often misunderstood when seen. So many preconceived notions jumped into people’s minds but not a single one was right.

Will thought of what Hannibal had once said, how scars had the power to remind someone the past was real. That’s what those scars in particular did to Will. The thin scars upon Hannibal’s wrists were the beginning of their courtship, the physical show of their melding, and each scar after them continued the story.

As Will finally let go, Hannibal kept his hand there and gently cupped Will’s cheek, his fingers stroking the Dragon’s mark.

In the darkened room cut off from the world, two moved as one.


	2. Reverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you again for those that have been reading this series! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well <3
> 
> The next part will be up in a few days and will be the adaption of Hannibal Rising into the Fullerverse.

“Why do you hide them?”

It was a question Hannibal posed during one of his sessions with Abigail. It was some time after Mrs. Torres’ death and Hannibal had made sure to keep his eyes and ears peeled for any information. However, no one had directly connected the woman’s disappearance to them. Because of that, things had gone back to normal in the household and they had fallen back into their routine.

After what had happened though, Hannibal felt he could push Abigail a little farther now.

When Abigail didn’t say anything right away, Hannibal calmly repeated his question and waited.

“I don’t always—”

“Not when we go for a swim,” Hannibal answered. “But every other moment you do. Even when we’re just at home.”

“It’s chilly.”

“ _Abigail_.” Her name came out harshly on his lips and he knew Will would have chided him if he were there. However, Hannibal could tell that coddling Abigail any further would do her no good. If she was to grow comfortable in her skin again, it would not be without its fair share of pain.

“I’m sorry.”

“And stop saying that,” Hannibal said, his voice turning softer again. “You have nothing to be sorry about. An apology implies you’ve done something wrong, which you haven’t. Now, tell me why you hide them.”

“I mean…they’re noticeable. They make me stand out,” murmured Abigail as she purposely pulled her hair over her face, better obscuring her lack of an ear.

“If I thought you needed to hide them for our safety, I would have asked you to. Of course, it is wise of you to think of that but there is more to why you hide them.”

Hannibal could tell he was finally getting somewhere. He had taught Abigail how to deal with the nightmares, how to ground herself in reality. But those were temporary solutions, fixing the symptoms but not the heart of the matter. However, Hannibal felt he could change that if he could just get Abigail to follow along.

Her eyes traveled to movement on their left, Precious padding into the room. Hannibal quickly moved to the edge of the chair and took Abigail’s hands, dragging her attention back to him. She was trying to use anything to change the topic, to avoid answering, but Hannibal wasn’t going to allow that.

“You hide them. Tell me.”

“I-I-I—”

“ _Tell me_.”

“Hannibal, please—”

“ _Now_.” He didn’t shout the word but he allowed every bit of malicious intent and danger to enter it.

Abigail’s response was immediate. She snatched her hands back to cover her mouth as she let out a strangled cry. Hannibal stood up, keeping himself from comforting her. “Now Abigail—”

“Because I’m ashamed of them!” she choked out, her voice breaking like china hitting the ground.

Hannibal allowed his body to relax as he sat down again. He let her cry a bit more before he gently pulled her hands back into his. “You are ashamed of who you are,” Hannibal murmured.

“I’m not—”

“You just said you are,” Hannibal replied. “Those scars were my gift to you. I even erased your father’s by putting mine over it but you hide them anyways.”

“Because I’m wrong! I’m not right in the head!” cried Abigail.

Finally, Hannibal had gotten somewhere. He listened to her rant and sob, listened to the words that he imagined countless psychologists and psychiatrists and nurses had pushed into her head while she’d been locked away. She had never completely told him what had happened, usually glossing over the finer details. He didn’t enjoy seeing her in such pain but it was good to finally hear the words that had filled Abigail’s head for five years.

“What did I tell you Abigail? What did I tell you when you spoke of waking up and knowing you could live with having gutted Nicholas Boyle? What was it?”

“Tha-that…that I’m a survivor.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m a survivor,” she said, her voice just the slightest bit stronger.

“You are,” Hannibal murmured, his voice growing firm again though this time much more loving as well. “You deserve the life you have Abigail and you should never be ashamed of what it took to get here.” Hannibal moved her hair back from her face and away from the lost ear. “Now, look at what was told to you and explain to me what you are ashamed of.”

“I’ve killed people. I’ve eaten people. I shouldn’t still be alive—”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why shouldn’t you be alive?” asked Hannibal calmly.

“Because I’ve killed—”

“What you have done,” interrupted Hannibal, “is live through ordeals that many could not even dream up. Before this, you were happy to be with me. You were yourself Abigail. It was only during your imprisonment that these thoughts of being weaker than you were entered your mind. And you trust me more than those doctors, don’t you?”

“Of course!”

Hannibal stood up again and held out his hand. Hesitantly, she took it and he pulled her to her feet.

“Go to the motorcycle. We’re going out for coffee,” Hannibal said.

Abigail didn’t argue as Hannibal sent a quick text to Will that they might be gone by the time he got home before going to make sure Orten and  Precious had enough water and food. He then went to meet Abigail outside. Thankfully they had finally gotten another car which Will was using now, leaving the motorcycle for them.

Abigail was about to put on her helmet when Hannibal put his hand over hers. “One moment.”

He undid the thin scarf from around her neck and then pulled her hair back. She shivered at the touch as Hannibal pulled her hair into a ponytail.

“Alright?”

Abigail hesitantly nodded.

“Good.” He handed her the helmet back and then put his own on.

Once they were both on, Hannibal could feel the uncertainty coursing through Abigail. He placed a hand over hers, a small show of support before he started the motorcycle and began to zip down the drive. As they headed towards Villa Gessel, he could feel her gradually relaxing against him, finding comfort in the feel of the wind moving around them and the familiar hum of the motorcycle.

When they arrived at the coffee shop they usually went to, he could feel Abigail tensing up again but it wasn’t anywhere near as drastic as before.

Hannibal stayed closer to her side than usual for support as they walked in and to the counter. Those that knew them as regulars mostly turned away upon seeing Hannibal. However, those that caught sight of Abigail kept their eyes on her. Hannibal could tell when it started to get to her as she tried to take a step behind him. However, he simply slowed his walk and once at the counter, gestured for her to go first.

She spoke to the barista, Thomás, and used the short conversation to practice her Spanish as she usually did even though he could speak English fairly well. To the young man’s credit, he only showed surprise once and then kept his eyes locked on Abigail’s for the rest of the time. He even complimented her on her pronunciation before taking Hannibal’s own order.

After getting their drinks, Hannibal decided they should sit outside and by the street. Neither said anything for a good while and Hannibal was content in watching the scurry of people, more so for examining the patterns that appeared in the social behavior. If he were with Will, he would have likely been placing himself in the passerby’s shoes, seeing what he could take from the momentary interaction.

Abigail was doing neither of those things though, choosing to concentrate on her coffee with the occasional glance in Hannibal’s direction.

He was a patient man though. It did not bother him as to how long it took before Abigail spoke.

“Why are we here?”

The words finally came after ten minutes of silence.

“I want you to look at those that pass us by and tell me what makes your life worth less than theirs.”

“I’m not an empath,” Abigail murmured.

“But you do have eyes. So tell me, does your life no longer have meaning? Should you forfeit it?”

He watched intently as Abigail finally raised her face towards the street. Her eyes roamed the bodies and faces that went left and right, the people driving in cars and those walking. Hannibal was long finished with his coffee by the time she spoke again.

“We’re like insects,” murmured Abigail.

“How so?” Hannibal asked, deciding to run with Abigail’s analogy.

“It’s the same, over and over again. There may be some differences on the outside but otherwise, it’s just select minds copied over and over again. Going to work, then home, then back again. A cycle that goes on until we die.”

“I do not think you an insect Abigail.”

She looked down for a moment before understanding seemed to fall on her face. “Will once told me you see humans as nothing more than pigs.”

“For the most part,” Hannibal admitted.

“But you’ve chosen not to kill me.”

“Because you are far more complex than any pig or insect,” Hannibal said. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “You cannot bind yourself to the ideas of those that are not you.”

Abigail snorted. “Sounds like a silly riddle.”

“Then perhaps I’ll put it in different terms. We do not confine ourselves to how apes or monkeys conceptualize what family means or what the point of life is. Likewise, taking what those doctors told you as truth only confines who you truly are.”

Abigail didn’t say anything to that as they turned to silence once more. Finally, Hannibal suggested they head back and Abigail nodded in agreement. What had occurred was not an immediate fix but Hannibal was sure that the words would take root. It would simply take more time for such ideals to become more like concrete rather than the flimsy stalks they currently were. However, it was better than the lack of anything that had cemented Abigail before.

Hannibal drove them home and they got back only just after Will did. They had their usual family dinner, that night all cooking together as Hannibal helped Will and Abigail before they all sat down to eat. Hannibal chose not to bring up his progress with Abigail though until she had retired for the night.

“So she’s getting better?” asked Will. They sat in the living room, the night sky shining above them from a skylight.

“It’ll take time, but yes. I would say so.”

The smile that Will gave had Hannibal’s lips tugging upwards as well.

“I’ve been so worried about her,” murmured Will. “I was afraid she’d just…never come back together.”

 “She will, but she first needs to understand that her scars are not the marks of shame she makes them out to be,” Hannibal said, moving a hand underneath Will’s shirt to find the scar that lay there. “She will grow into her skin again.”

Will nodded, satisfied with Hannibal’s reassurance.

Of course, both understood that the battle would not be completely uphill. Dips did occur and there were still the occasional setback to her therapy. However, Abigail continued to wear her hair up and allowed her scars to show, even on days where it was clear she would have preferred not to.

The next time it became clear she was recovering and they were getting somewhere though was when Abigail asked to choose the target of their next hunt. Though she had joined Hannibal and Will every time, she had never been the one to choose nor plan out the hunt, excluding her sloppy killing of Mrs. Torres.

When Abigail asked, Hannibal nodded in agreement, allowing himself a proud smile which Will mimicked. “Who is it?”

Hannibal only somewhat listened to the name and her reason for it. Her reasoning was something that would take longer to be fully realized and would likely change before she found her center. For the moment, Hannibal really cared about the how, knowing that her method and planning would show just how committed she was to it.

And it turned out very committed as she had already analyzed the risks involved, staked out the house, and even how they would use the body afterwards. Hannibal’s favorite part was how she took responsibility for it as well. For once, Hannibal would be sitting back on this one. He would remain with Abigail the entire time to make sure she stayed safe but otherwise he wouldn’t take any action. Will’s roll was almost amusing too as he was to be the bait as Abigail put it.

After Hannibal did some of his own research into their target, they picked a night and drove out to the secluded address that was thankfully away from any of the towns in the area. The man was a Mr. Charles Adam, an immigrant from England. Apparently he had a pet and was constantly at the veterinarian hospital, hence why Abigail had met him. She had run into him quite a bit when she took Orten in and she’d noted how often he was getting medicine and bandages. Mr. Adam was also incredibly rude and unfriendly and for whatever reason, Abigail seemed intent on having him for dinner.

Honestly, the man could have been a saint and Hannibal wouldn’t have really cared. If it was what Abigail wanted, then they would do it.

Already knowing that the man had no security system in place and that Mr. Adam was indeed a friendless and childless bachelor, they knew they wouldn’t have to worry about being interrupted. Then the plan proceeded just as Abigail had arranged.

With their car out of the way and hidden on the desolate road, Will was the one to approach the front door, putting on charming smiles and fake exhaustion. From the back door was where Hannibal entered with Abigail. The lock was easily picked and they both entered without making a sound.

They moved through the simple but lavish house as Will’s voice floated forward, detailing an audacious journey to find anyone seeing as his car had broken down and he’d forgotten his cell phone. The man didn’t exactly seem swayed by Will’s words but finally walked outside simply out of annoyance and a hope that he could get rid of Will as quickly as possible.

That was how Abigail struck, from behind, from the safety of his own home.

She went low first, striking at his Achilles’ tendon. Will easily stepped to the side as the man went down with a scream that echoed through the empty woods. He struggled to move and his inability to walk only left crawling. It was obvious he was in shock as he only tried to go away from his house and the danger behind him.

Abigail kicked him over as he made it out to the forest floor. She straddled him and easily cut at the frantic hands that tried to stop her. The knife came down on his forehead, not hard enough to break the skull but enough to cut through the skin. Abigail pulled back, splitting his face in half. The man began to drown on his own blood then, his tongue having been cut as well when it got in the way. However, he was still very much alive when Abigail managed to get the knife under the skin and peeled back his face.

Hannibal leaned over her, looking at the display with mild curiosity.

“You have unmasked him,” Hannibal observed. He looked to Abigail. “How do you feel?”

She didn’t say anything at first, her chest still heaving as she looked down at what she had done.

“Few could do that and remain sane afterwards,” Hannibal continued.

Abigail nodded in agreement. Her lips moved but no sound came out. She swallowed and touched the scar on her neck. “I am my father’s daughter.”

“Yes,” he agreed. He knew she was not referring to Garret Jacob Hobbs. “You are.”

“We’re a family,” she said, her voice far more sure and resolute than before.

Hannibal nodded. “And you belong in this family Abigail. You belong with us.”

Abigail suddenly turned and hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Abigail,” Hannibal murmured, kissing the top of her forehead. “Now, start cleaning up. I’ll take care of the body.”

Abigail nodded, finally standing up and hurrying off to get the tools they had brought with them. Hannibal picked up the body, the man’s face flapping open from where it had been skinned off. Just as that happened, Hannibal heard a noise that reminded him how Abigail had met the man. He had predicted what would happen but that didn’t mean it stopped him from rolling his eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh, particularly when he saw the breed.

“Will…”

“We are not leaving her here,” Will immediately shot back, holding an English Mastiff in his arms. From the look of the dog, it probably weighed as much as Mr. Adam.

With another heavy sigh, Hannibal simply walked back to where they had hidden the car with Will at his side.

“Can it not walk?” asked Hannibal.

“Her paws are completely torn up,” growled out Will. Hannibal imagined he somewhat wished he’d been the one to end Mr. Adam’s life now. “She was a gift from his mother. It’s why he never got rid of her.”

“Didn’t want to upset mother?”

“Didn’t want to give her another reason to yell at him.”

“So he acted out scenarios that he wished to do to his own mother on the pet she had gifted him while simultaneously forcing it to live on.”

Will nodded, his face souring all the more until the dog whimpered to which Will’s face immediately softened. “Don’t worry Liz. I’ll fix you up soon.”

They got to the car where Hannibal wrapped up the body to keep the blood from getting on the floor of the trunk. Then Will placed the dog back there as well, quickly pulling out his pocket knife and slicing a far too tight collar.

“There you go girl,” murmured Will as he scratched her behind the ear.

They then quickly went about cleaning up their mess and Hannibal disposed of the man’s car as well. Once home, Hannibal went about taking care of Mr. Adam with Abigail. It was the first time she had really been involved in the wrapping and preparing of the organs and Hannibal marked it as another victory that she wished to help. While they did that, Will kept busy fixing up the new dog and introducing her to Precious and Orten. After most of the organ harvesting had been done, he let Abigail go and finished disposing of the rest of the body himself.

It was so tempting to take the remaining pieces of the man and to create something beautiful out of the pig. However, they didn’t need that kind of attention for the moment. Perhaps if they chose to travel elsewhere, Hannibal could gift Will with something beautiful upon their leaving.

When Hannibal got back, Will and Abigail were enjoying a movie, Liz sleeping peacefully at their feet. Orten was curled up and under one of the Mastiff’s ears while Precious sat in Abigail’s lap.

Hannibal sat down and Will moved to his side, fitting together like some twisted puzzle.


End file.
